


And We Are Beginning

by Fialleril



Series: war is over [2]
Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Class Differences, Cooking, Domestic Fluff, F/F, F/M, Families of Choice, Family, Gen, Recovery, Tatooine Slave Culture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-22 20:16:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3742261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fialleril/pseuds/Fialleril
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liro is upset, baby Shmi is excited about tzai, and Anakin offers some advice to another former Tatooine slave who is maybe kind of a little bit in love with the Queen of Naboo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And We Are Beginning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cassiopia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassiopia/gifts).



> This takes place five years after [After the War](http://archiveofourown.org/works/206526), so Liro (one of the former child soldiers) is now 16, Luke and Leia are four, and little Shmi is two. Anakin adores all of the kids, of course, and he definitely doesn’t have favorites, but Liro is his favorite. (She’s a former slave from Tatooine. That’s definitely not why she’s his favorite. Nope.)
> 
> Some notes on Tatooine words: _ipa_ means “father,” but with a familiar sense (“daddy”), while _amu_ is “mother” (“mommy”); _ikkalli_ means “little sister” and _akku_ is closest to “sweetheart”.

The kitchen was empty, but it wouldn’t stay that way for long. Liro could already hear the off-key sounds of Anakin humming out in the hallway, punctuated now and then by the joyful squeals of a toddler.

He was still far enough away that she could slip out unnoticed, if she wanted to. And she was tempted. The sick feeling in her gut hadn’t settled, and she knew there must be tear tracks on her face. She wasn’t sure she wanted to deal with anyone.

Liro hesitated, one foot poised in the air. Out in the hallway, she heard little Shmi babble something indistinct, and Anakin laugh and reply with, “Well of course I’ll let you help!”

With a sigh Liro sank onto one of the sleek wooden kitchen stools. She swiped her sleeve over her eyes in one last futile effort to hide the evidence.

“Ipa, come _on_ ,” Shmi called, and a moment later the two year old came racing into the kitchen, giggling, her bare feet slapping against the tiles. In spite of herself, Liro smiled.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Anakin huffed, doing an incredibly poor job of disguising his laughter. “I’m just too old to keep up with you, that’s all. And besides, you – ” He rounded the corner and stopped suddenly, surprised by Liro’s presence.

She should have laughed about it. She should have teased him for not sensing her, because that would have distracted him, and he wouldn’t have said –

“ _Ikkalli_ , what’s wrong?”

Liro groaned.

Anakin eyed her closely. His mouth quirked in a half-smile, but it held more concern than mischief. “Rané’s here, you know,” he said.

“I know,” Liro said bleakly, burying her face dramatically in her hands.

It was silly, and for that very reason she was almost glad. He was probably afraid that she’d had another freeze up, or a nightmare maybe, but this was… It felt so _normal_ , to be upset about a girl. It was…nice. Well, it was awful. But nice, too.

“Ah,” said Anakin, in that way she was almost certain he’d picked up from Jedi Kenobi. They both thought it made them sound wise and attentive. Liro giggled.

“Ipa!” Shmi demanded, tugging at Anakin’s pants. “Ipa, you promised we’d make tzai!”

Liro stood quickly, seizing the opportunity for escape. “I should – ” she said, already halfway to the kitchen door, but Anakin stopped her with a level stare.

“You’re family, _ikkalli_ ,” he said. “You can stay. It’s about time I showed you the recipe, too.”

“Oh,” Liro breathed.

Anakin grinned at her, winked, and bent to grab Shmi, who was now trying to climb his leg. “Come on you two scamps,” he said, and started for the spice cabinet.

Liro had never dared so much as look in there. It was a sacred place, and sacred meant secret. She respected Anakin and Padmé far too much to go poking about in their sanctum. But now she’d been invited. Now she was _family_.

She’d never made tzai before, though she drank Anakin’s at least once a day, and nearly every night, when the nightmares were bad. But she’d never made it for herself. She’d never had a recipe.

“Well?” said Anakin impatiently. He’d hoisted Shmi up onto the counter and was holding her against his chest with one arm and arranging the herbs and spices with the other. “Are you coming?”

Liro grinned. “Yes!” she said, and dashed up to stand beside him.

Anakin had everything laid out neatly in little bowls. There were seven different spices, a tin of kaktru petals, and a pile of ginsu bark.

“You use ginsu?” she asked, surprised. On its own ginsu had a strong astringent flavor, but she’d never noticed it in the tzai before.

Anakin hummed absently, retrieving a handful of petals from Shmi before she could put them in her mouth. “Not yet, _akku_ ,” he said. “We can’t eat them like that. We have to brew the tzai first.” He shrugged his free shoulder, bumping Liro lightly. “And yes, we use ginsu. Just a little. It…” He hesitated, glancing first at Shmi and then at Liro, and then he sighed. “It helps with pain.”

“I know,” Liro whispered, the fingers of her left hand coming up to stroke the long, narrow scar across her collarbone, where the implant had once nestled under her skin.

“Yeah,” Anakin said. His own hand moved toward his stomach, but he caught himself and turned back to the bowls of spices on the counter.

He had a scar, too. His was across his abdomen. They’d had their transmitters removed together, and Anakin joked sometimes that it was like getting a tattoo together; it bound them.

Liro studied the spices and their quantities very carefully, noting the way he mixed things and the precise order. Now, they really were family.

“Let me, let me!” Shmi said, and Anakin grinned, handing his daughter a bowl full of the Skywalker tzai blend.

“All right,” he said. “Now you can put it in the pot.”

Liro and Anakin both watched as the little girl dumped the bowl with excited abandon. Most of the mixture did end up in the pot. Anakin scooped up what didn’t and added it in, along with the water, and set it to boil.

“Now,” he said, turning to Liro with a wide, teasing grin. “Tell me all about Rané. Why are you hiding out in here instead of spending your whole afternoon with her?”

Liro groaned. She’d hoped he had forgotten, but she should have known better. And maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, talking about it. She’d never had a family before, but Anakin was her brother and now it was _official_ , she knew the Skywalker tzai recipe and everything.

“Rané’s the Queen,” she said miserably.

Anakin blinked. “Ah,” he said, but this time it was surprise, and not an attempt to sound wise.

Liro laughed. “Yeah,” she said.

“Rané’s a _queen_?” Shmi asked, awe tinging her voice. “A real queen, with a crown and a big ship and everything?”

“Yeah,” Liro muttered. “And everything.”

“ _Wizard_ ,” was Shmi’s summary of the situation. She then went back to staring at the pot of tzai with narrowed eyes. “Is it done yet, Ipa?”

“Not yet,” said Anakin, laughing. “It’s got to boil first.” He ruffled her dark curls, and Shmi scowled at him.

“I overheard her talking with Padmé,” Liro said haltingly, her eyes, too, trained on the pot, if only to avoid looking at Anakin. “She came for advice about – ” she frowned “ – about something. Some kind of…districting act? I don’t know.”

She grinned ruefully, and Anakin laughed. He may have been married to a member of the Queen’s Advisory Council, but he didn’t know much more about politics than Liro did.

“But they were talking about – about being Queen. She’s the _Queen_ , Anakin. And I’m just – ”

“ _Just_ nothing,” Anakin cut in fiercely. “You’re a person. And so is she, just like you. Even if she is a queen. You’re just as important.”

Liro stared up at him, her hand brushing unconsciously over her scar. It felt smooth and faded now, nearly six years old, but there were still days when she had to touch it, to remind herself that it was really there, and that the transmitter wasn’t.

“But she’s the leader of a whole planet!” Liro snapped. “Why would she even have time for me?”

“Because she always has before,” Anakin said. He reached out to pull Shmi back from the cabinet door, and the girl huffed in indignation and glared at her father. Anakin laughed.

“She’s still Rané, you know,” he said, scooping Shmi up in his arms and hoisting her high in the air until she giggled and shrieked. “And she’s always been Queen Apailana, even before you knew. She chose to spend time with you before, because she wanted to. That’s not going to change just because you know her secret.”

Liro bit her lip, considering this. He was probably right, but she wasn’t sure it helped. Rané was the Queen. And she hadn’t told Liro.

But maybe Liro should have guessed. The other handmaidens came to Varykino to talk with Padmé sometimes, but none of them came as often as Rané. And there were all those times Rané had seemed so preoccupied, and she’d told Liro the Queen was worried, but then she’d stayed and talked all night with Liro anyway, or they’d gone for a swim in the lake, or sat on the grass laughing and joking and daring each other to play pranks on Kuma and Janiv and Cei.

She blushed, thinking about it, and Anakin’s grin turned wicked.

“I think,” he said with slow deliberation, “that you should ask her out. Oh, and the tzai’s done now.”

“Yay!” shrieked Shmi, while Liro’s blush deepened horribly and she stood gaping at Anakin.

“Did I make it right, Ipa?” Shmi asked, squirming in her father’s arms. “Did I? Did I?”

“Only one way to find out,” said Anakin brightly, and poured them all cups. Half a second passed, and then he reached for five more mugs and filled those, too.

From the doorway, someone coughed.

Liro gasped and spun around, her hand flying thoughtlessly to her hip, even though she hadn’t kept a vibroblade in years. It took her a moment to register who was there, but when she did, she drew herself up again quickly, embarrassed.

Padmé and Rané had come in together, and Kuma was there too, sweaty with exertion. Luke and Leia trailed after him, grass and dirt still sticking to their clothes.

“Ipa! Amu! Kuma taught us a new dance!” they exclaimed in unison. “Watch!”

They launched into it with abandon, leaping about the kitchen and leaving bits of grass and leaves everywhere they touched down on the floor. It didn’t look particularly coordinated, but they were certainly having fun, and Kuma was grinning and clapping out a beat for them. Shmi wriggled her way out of her father’s arms and dashed over to join her siblings, tripping gracelessly around the floor, her arms held out like wings.

“You all look wonderful,” said Padmé, hiding a laugh behind her hand.

Something brushed against Liro’s hand, and she looked sharply away from the dance.

“Sorry,” said Rané – no, Queen Apailana – and she smiled at Liro, almost sheepishly. It was a smile Liro knew well, but that didn’t stop the sudden quickening of her heartbeat.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” said the Queen. “I just wanted to see you, before I have to go back to the palace. I was hoping we could talk. Just the two of us?” Her cheeks darkened, just slightly. Her nose wrinkled when she smiled. Her eyes crinkled at the edges.

She was still Rané.

Liro chanced a glance at Anakin. He winked at her.

She flushed, but she couldn’t hide her smile.

“Yeah,” she said. “I’d like that.”


End file.
